Fate Fallen
by MarchFrostbite
Summary: Ever since their parents divorce, Matthew Williams has felt helpless, falling victim to his mother's sudden bursts of alcohol related anger. When he meets Gilbert Beilschmidt, his life is suddenly thrown into turmoil. Can this boy really be as lonely as he is? Rated M for violence, alcoholism, child abuse and swearing. Hi! This is my first published fanfic, hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Fate Fallen**

**Chapter 1:**

**Ever since their parents' divorce Matthew Williams has felt helpless, falling victim to his mother's sudden bursts of alcohol related anger. When he transfers to another class, he meets Gilbert Beilschmidt. Can this boy really be as lonely as he is? Rated M for violence, alcoholism, child abuse and swearing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, the Gerita would be off the scale!  
This is my first published story, so sorry if it's not too good and the grammar is poor! The characters may be out of character slightly. This first chapter is more like a prologue. I hope you enjoy!**

The stench of stale beer hung in the air like that of a corpse. Sickly, choking, making Matthew gag as he opened his bedroom door and stepped onto the crusted carpet of the hallway. He tried to hold his breath as he made his way from the small room, hall and into the living room, a rather spacious area which was set with a TV on the wall, a more or less empty bookshelf, a cheap, battered sofa with various stains covering the upholstery. The walls were a cream colour, but they too, had been stained by coffee, mud and things that Mattie did just not want to know about. A small table with two chairs had a small pile of magazines on it and a packet of Marlboro cigarettes.  
The repulsive sound of heaving from the small, untidy bathroom (or at least Mattie assumed it was untidy, the crashing sounds were a big hint) told him he was alone in the living room. Glancing at the door, he took two cigarettes. Taking another one as he predicted the likelihood of his mother even remembering how many cigarettes she had. They found a new home in the pockets of his jeans as he made his way to the kitchen to get the bucket out from under the cupboard, a glass from the counter, a cloth and a mop. Filling the glass with water before he left, he made his way to the bathroom, where the sounds of retching seemed to be quieting down. Thank god.  
_'Every night.' he thought. 'Every night it's the same routine.'_  
Matthew stopped, daring himself to open the door. If you thought the stale beer was bad, this was so much worse. She'd barely made it to the toilet before throwing up, making a mess more on herself than in the toilet. Cigarette smoke already clung to her clothes and her hair, the odor of alcohol from whatever bar she just arrived from hung around her like a dark cloud from a power plant. Not pretty to look at, and even worse to breathe in.  
Sadly none of this was exactly knew to the blonde. Night after night of waiting up for his mother, making sure she didn't choke and drown on her own vomit, getting her cleaned up for work the next day.  
Mattie held back a scoff. _'Work? The only reason he keeps her around is because he takes pity on her!'  
_It was true. She worked in Walmart in customer service, though most of them complained about her attitude and antisocial behavior. Even the staff were getting sick of her. On more than one occasion, the young boy had been sat doing his homework or enjoying the few hours of his mother's absence, when there'd be a knock at the door, and a stinking, limp, delirious woman was dragged into his living room. This wasn't one of those moments but it was nearly as bad.  
She groaned as the last of the bile came up, slumping against the bathtub, she gazed up at her son, a look of confusion and distaste played across her numbed features.  
"Who are you?" She slurred, jabbing one, shaking finger into his thigh. "Who-" She turned around and was sick in the bath.  
_'Well so much for getting a bath tonight...'_ he thought.  
"It's me, mom. Your son, Matthew."  
"Alfred? Thought you were with your dad, baby." She cackled slightly, or it might have been a cough. It was hard to tell these days.  
"No, mom. Matthew. Math-you!" To emphasize, he pulled on his hair slightly. It was noticeable longer than his brothers, hanging loosely by his shoulders, complete with a little curl.  
"Well, Math-you! Why don't you get mommy another drink from the fridge? Don't... don't you take any! I know what you do! Thief!" Her shrill voice cut through him like a knife as she swung her right fist to land square in the blonde's face. He barely managed to dodge the blow to his temple, but wasn't fast enough to dodge the one to his ribs. A gut wrenching sickness washed over him as he gasped for breath, kneeling on the bathroom floor.  
Mattie brought his gaze up to his mother, who stared at him, confused more than apologetic.  
"Did I get you?" her voice sounding barely over fifteen, though she was thirty-eight.  
"Yes," he choked. "You got me." She grumbled something that could have been an apology or an excuse. But she yawned, and tiredness quickly set in.  
"Bedtime."  
"Don't wanna sleep..." Her head rolled backwards, allowing her brown curls to hang loosely by her side. Matthew sighed, linking his arms under her armpits and carefully dragging her out of the room- a maneuver that proved difficult as she had gained weight in her drinking years. It took maybe ten minutes to get her dressed, and into bed. Though she smelt awful, it made more sense to bathe her in the morning, when the sickness would subside, and he'd cleaned the mess she'd made. Grabbing the glass of water and the bucket from earlier, he placed them by her bed, checking once more that she was on her side and her head was propped up, hoping that if she was sick she wouldn't choke or get it on the pristine bedsheets which he had washed earlier that evening.  
"... Night, mom..." His own voice sounding quiet now, as tears rolled down his pale cheeks. It would be an hour before Matthew Williams finished cleaning the sick out and could go to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Chapter two is up! I hope you enjoy it! Hopefully I'll get around to introducing Gilbert and the others in this chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!**

The first thing Mattie did when he woke up was to check out the area where his mom's first connected with his ribs. The full length mirror showed him the dark purple bruising that covered three of his ribs. He gently pressed down on the swelling to find it sore and tender, but at least nothing was broken. Grabbing his dressing gown, he made his way to the now pristine bathroom he'd cleaned the night before. Hoping to god that the swelling magically faded before...  
_PE!  
_Matthew groaned, letting the warm water cascade down his pale skin. He liked to leave the plug in the bath, so the water could pool at his feet. The fact that he had PE today was bad enough, but the obvious marking on his ribs from the night before was bound to attract attention.  
'_They probably won't notice it anyway,' _he thought to himself. _'It's like you're invisible...'  
_Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. He'd only have his shirt off for a few seconds before changing into his PE polo shirt. His back would be turned from everyone.  
A noise from the kitchen alerted him, and he turned off the shower, pulled on his dressing gown and joined his mother, who was awake but still smelling like the living dead, in the kitchen.  
"Morning..." Mattie whispered his voice barely audible over the hum of the fridge. Nevertheless she turned around.  
"Morning... did you..." She tugged on the sleeve of her nightgown.  
"Yes..."  
"... Thanks..." All the while her eyes never met his. They never did. "... Have we got anything to eat in this fucking house?!" His mother's voice had grown raspy over the years of excessive drinking, smoking and yelling, it had once been beautiful. That was before she was sacked from her first job as a music teacher.  
"I went shopping and bought pancake ingredients with the money you left me yesterday..." His tone was that of a shy pre-schooler; quiet and cautious. The kind you'd use when you knew a parent was barely containing their anger and stress, and that one wrong move could start a screaming match.  
She looked at her son with an expression that was a mix of confusion, distaste and exasperation.  
"I can't make them for you, if that's what you're asking." She closed the fridge, leaning against the counter. "You need to buy food that's microwavable or snacks."  
Matthew took in a deep breath before speaking.  
"Well the budget was tight and... the ingredients were all half price... we needed the money for rent..." His gaze focussed on the leg of one of the chairs at the small dining table. "It's gone up again..."  
There was silence for a moment, but Mattie couldn't bring himself to look up. She just sighed, as if she were disappointed in him.  
"I'm going to get a shower." She took a few steps forwards. "And when I get out," a few more steps. "I want you to be ready for school." Now she was right in front of him, her face only inches from his. "And food on the table. Think you can handle that?"  
Matthew nodded stiffly. She returned the gesture and went into the bathroom. Listening for the audible sound of the bathroom lock bolting shut, he swung his arm out and knocked the magazines to the floor, breathing through his teeth. But the anger dissipated into a familiar loneliness.  
Turning too got down the hall, careful not to stomp or make any sound that would alert his mother. He went to his room and opened the wardrobe.  
There wasn't a large choice of clothes, most were pretty similar; a few jeans, some pyjamas, a couple of jumpers and t-shirts, the basics. It only took two minutes to pick out a red hoodie with a white maple leaf on the front and a pair of blue jeans. His glasses were still on the bedside table, but he put them on and blinked at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes leaned more on the violet side and his wavy blonde hair went down to the nape of his neck. All in all... he was cute. Or at least that was what he'd been told by the odd person who often mistook him for his twin brother.  
Staring back at him, in the corner of his room was the teddy bear he'd had since he was born, Kumajirou. The bear was always a comfort to him, and had kept him company in the last nine years since his parents' divorce and his separation from Alfred.  
Matthew cast the thought aside as he grabbed his school bag and PE kit and went downstairs to make the pancakes.

Mattie barely managed to get breakfast done in time, but he'd somehow managed it and had rushed out to school, leaving his mother to finish off her plate which she'd no doubt leave for him to clean up when he got home. But chores weren't the biggest thing on his mind as he stood playing with his jumper in the changing rooms. The bruise seemed to hurt more now than it did when he received it, making it difficult to lift the clothing above his head. Somehow he managed to awkwardly manoeuvre it off and dropped it on the floor, facing the wall and keeping his arm against the mark, blocking the view from anyone's curious gaze.  
"Hey! Mattie! Dude!" called a loud, yet painfully familiar voice. "Not even gonna say hi to me?!" A large hand clasped him on the shoulder in a mocking gesture.  
Behind him stood his elder twin, Alfred, who was a whole lot more outgoing and popular than he was, and more handsome. But Matthew was the smart one, and their dad had often said that together they could achieve anything! But the fact was their brotherly arguing got in the way of that, and neither of them had a lot of chances to see each other outside of school, mainly due to their mom. Alfred lived with their dad in their old house on the other side of town and neither Alfred nor their dad knew, or could know, that their mother had a bit of a drinking problem. It wasn't like Matthew didn't want to see their dad. On more than several occasions he'd been invited to stay with them. On all those occasions he declined, using the excuse of homework or chores. When Alfred wanted to come to Matthews, he would tell him their mother was out and the house was a mess, which was never a complete lie.  
"Alfred..." Mattie whispered.  
"What? I can't hear you, bro! Wait, what's that you're hiding?" He jabbed at his arm.  
"Nothing!" the younger of the twins gasped.  
"Is it a tattoo?!"  
"No-" But before he could even finish the word, Alfred blew it.  
"Hey! Mattie's got ink!"  
Soon there was a small group of people gathered around the two, Alfred still trying to tug his arm away, Mattie desperately trying to shake him off. The muttering grew louder, a mix of teenagers anxious to see the 'ink' that the boy had supposedly gotten. A few familiar faces were in the crowd: The Vargas brothers, Veneziano and Lovino stood together. You probably wouldn't find brothers so opposite in your entire life. Venezianos' response was more excitable than Lovino's, who looked bored, but curious. Stood next to the hyper Italian was Ludwig Beilschmidt, a German exchange student who moved to their town three years ago, though time hadn't taken its toll on his accent, and currently he was staring at the place where the tattoo should be. Arthur Kirkland, who now joined the crowd, had the most eccentric hobbies a teenager could have. It was no secret that he'd been practicing witchcraft, not since he cast a spell on one of the most popular boys in school, Francis Bonnefoy, who walked towards the group now with his best friend, Antonio Fernández Carriedo, and a boy who Mattie didn't recognise...  
He had platinum blonde hair and red eyes, an albino, but something about his face reminded him of someone he already knew... He wasn't very muscly but he still wasn't the kind of guy that Mattie would pick a fight with.  
He didn't even realize he'd been staring until the albino smirked at him, causing his cheeks to heat up.  
"Was ist dis, Ludwig?" He addressed the stern looking German. Mattie's eyes darted between the two. Both obviously came from Germany or a Germanic speaking country. Both had stern expressions though the shorter one was smiling and not in a 'let's be friends' way... more like a 'let me invade your vital regions' way. It sent a shiver down Mattie's spine.  
"Das," replied the German. "Ist... Who are you?" he frowned, looking Matthew up and down.  
"Matthew Williams," squeaked the blonde, not sure why he felt like he had to answer. The small crowd had gone silent. The only thing disturbing it was the laugh from the albino. Even his laugh stood out; instead of being the usual 'ha-ha!' it was more like 'Kesesesesesese!'  
"Why aren't you sharing your tattoo with us zen?" All eyes went from the blonde, who was still trying to shake off his brothers' grip, and stared in wonder at the three gorgeous boys in front of them. For once Mattie was glad that the attention wasn't on him, at least not from the crowd. In fact two of the three were distracted with harassing a couple of the spectators; Francis was winking mischievously at Arthur, who turned a shade of red that Mattie hadn't thought was possible for a human to go until now. Antonio had somehow managed to creep up behind one of the Vargas brothers, Lovino, whilst all eyes were on Francis, and placed one hand on top of his head and began to play with the curl. Lovino shrieked, and then brought his elbow back, hitting the Spanien square in the stomach.  
"BASTARD!" The Italian screamed. All heads turned towards the quarrelling couple, giving the Canadian a chance to break free of his brothers' grasp and run for the exit.

Matthew waited behind the library building until he was sure that the class had left the changing rooms and had gone down to the playing fields for the lesson before making his way back to collect his bags. It wasn't the first time he'd skipped class but it was the first time he'd done it with a reason for doing so. The last time he did it was just an experiment to see if the teacher would notice he was gone. They didn't.  
The locker room door was still unlocked, thankfully, allowing him to go in, grab his bags and change back into the clothes he chose earlier that morning, only for a strong arm to snake around his waist as he turned to leave.

**Hey! Sorry about the wait! Hope you enjoyed it, I should have chapter three up soon, with a proper introduction of Prussia! Sorry I didn't add much PruCan in this chapter! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Hey! Here's chapter three! Sorry it took so long. I had exams and my dog sat on my laptop so my screens kind of... well it looks like Tony the alien except I can only see one corner and I'm having to use my TV screen as a monitor! Anyway, here's chapter three!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!**

Matthew's heart pounded as whoever had a hold of him pulled him back, so he was pressed against their chest, which shook with the familiar laughter he heard earlier.

"You thought you could escape from the awesome me, little birdie? Kesesesesesese~" The grip on his waist grew tighter, almost painfully so.

"Wh- Who are you?!" The Canadian gasped, wiggling slightly to get free.

"I am ze awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt!" the German exclaimed right into his ear, making Mattie wince slightly at the sudden burst of noise. "And you," his voice softened. "Have an awesome tattoo to show me, ja?"

"No, I don't have a tattoo!" The smaller of the two boy's face heated up as a hand tugged at his hoodie.

"Really?"

"R-really..."

"Well zen," his thick accent washed over him, almost soothing, but at the same time it drew him in. "If there's nothing there." Matthew pulled to get away yet again, "Zen you won't mind sharing." One tug, that's all it took, and the hand was swiftly removed from the Canadian's waist, the hoodie yanked over his head, sending Mattie crashing onto the floor, both arms out to protect him as he hit the ground, leaving his bruised ribs on display to the albino, who stood, jumper in hand, staring in what could be confusion or suspicion, with a hint of distress.

Mattie quickly drew his arm over the marking, hiding it from view of Gilbert, though he knew full well that he could not unsee what he just saw.

"Matthew... was ist das?" He stepped back, giving Mattie room to stand up, and held out the jumper. Though he tried to be quick to pull the hoodie back on, there was enough time to catch a second glimpse at the red, swollen, aggravated flesh that stood out like a sore thumb on Mattie's ribs. This time Gil seemed to study it briefly.

"That is so un-awesome... who did this?" Matthew took a deep breath in before looking at his feet. A sudden nausea churned in the pit of his stomach, threatening to lose his pancakes.

"It's none of your business... you don't even know me!" He cried, head snapping up, staring at the wide-eyed stranger.

"I want to help, Mattie." Gilbert mumbled softly, though there was an undertone of anger. "I want to know why you've got a fucking un-awesome bruise on your ribs!"

Matthew took another breath. He was quieter now. Not calmer. But quieter. No one, apart from Alfred and (occasionally) his mother had called him Mattie in a long time. Sometimes he preferred to be called Mattie, sometimes Matthew. Often he was confused for Alfred or just simply ignored. Except now this guy, this stranger, didn't just brush him off or leave him behind.

"There's nothing to help me with." He whispered. Gilbert raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Zen tell me was happened."

"No..." Gil stepped forward, raising one hand to cup the blonde's chin, though withdrew when he saw the tiniest flinch. "There's nothing much to tell. See... I tripped on my shoelaces and fell on the curb..."

Silenced descended upon the two, only to be broken when the red-eyed boy spoke.

"You promise you're not lying to me? Because that would be totally un-awesome..." The smaller boy felt a slight twinge of guilt and looked away. Why should he feel guilty? He didn't know the guy! Better yet, why should he make promises? Taking in a deep breath of air, the Canadian sighed.

"I promise."

"Awesome!" Exclaimed the... well what? His accent, though obviously German, was different to the only other German Mattie knew.

"Excuse me..."

"Ja?"

"Where are you from...?" Inwardly he scolded himself. Gilbert didn't have to tell him anything of course. In fact if anyone was being dishonest it was Matthew. Luckily this didn't bother him too much. Actually his face broke into a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"East Germany. I like to think myself as Prussian. Mein Bruder ist Ludwig." Startled, he looked up and began trying to work out any similarities, only coming up with a few: similar facial features, both had inherited a tall gene (though Ludwig was taller) and muscle tone. All other physical features were completely different.

"... You're wondering why we look so different, Ja?" Matthew blushed and nodded slightly. His cheeks were pink and heated, hopefully the 'Prussian' wouldn't notice.

"Zat is what everyone asks me..." His cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I didn't mean it like that, eh, I'm sorry..." Gilbert opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the twenty-or-so teenage boys that flooded into the changing rooms.

'_Has it really been an hour already?'_ Mattie thought to himself. Looking up at Gil, he could almost tell that they shared the same thought.

"I-"

"Bonjour, Gilbert! You've met Alfred I see!" Francis Bonnefoy sauntered over in all his handsome glory. This barely helped Matthew contain the rage and resentment as it tore through him. He was not his brother. He was not Alfred. And he was going to be recognised as Matthew Williams.

"Nein, Francis. This is Matt-" Gilbert never finished his sentence as a terrible cry ripped out of the boys throat.

"I AM MATTHEW!"

...

Everyone's eyes were now on him, including Gilbert's who stared at him with an expression that was somewhere between shock and confusion. Silence descended. Suddenly the small blonde felt claustrophobic.

"I'm... I'm..."

Gilbert placed one hand on Matthew's trembling shoulder.

"You're Matthew." He whispered softly. Everyone in the room began to murmur; _'Who's that?' 'Why's he shouting?' 'Alfred's changed his name?' _

"Vait, Mattie, vait!" Gil shouted after him as he tore away from his grip, grabbed his now discarded bags and ran out of the changing rooms.

"Honhonhon~" Francis chuckled. "Well that was very interesting."

"Si," Grinned Antonio.

"Go back to your eyebrow and curl fantasies..." Gilbert felt a smile creep up onto his lips. "I've got some work to do."

How many times in one hour can a guy run out of a changing room? Too many. Though Matthew didn't go far, he found himself waiting outside of the English classrooms that mainly filled one of the buildings. The school was made up of the main entrance (which contained a reception area, a staff corridor, which lead to; the medical room, the photocopying room, the CCTV room, one of the IT service rooms and a staff toilet. The rest was made up of the school Hall, some offices and the gym, as well as the changing rooms.) The science building. Humanities, DT, art, languages and a few other science labs and IT rooms were in one of the bigger structures. Maths had it's own area.

It was classroom 2b where Matthew would spend an hour of boredom. Not because he hated English but because it was the most common lesson. He had it four times a week and after a while, it became tedious. The teacher was already in the room, lecturing a bunch of kids lower down in the school about packing away before the bell went. Mattie recognized two faces; Arthur's little brother, Peter Kirkland, and Peter's Latvian friend, Raivis Galante.

He was still panting a little from the run as the bell went, signalling the end of the lesson, meaning there was a fifteen minute break.

There was no point in going anywhere, he had his bags and his homework. He had no one to meet. Alfred no doubt would be hanging around with Arthur or Japan, trying to convince them to give them answers. Arthur would be in the middle of 'it's-not-rape-class' with Francis.

'_Unless Francis was with Antonio,'_ Mattie thought to himself. _'Maybe they were both with Gilbert. What are they doing now? Is Gilbert telling them about the bruise? What if someone tells Al?!'_

He knew Alfred seemed to forget him most of the time, but if Gilbert told him about the bruise... Al would tell their dad. And their dad would ask their mom. And their mom... A wave of anxiety induced sickness nearly knocked Matthew backwards. Dizziness took over as his mind battled with two sets of arguments.

'_If she's angry, maybe she will...'_

'_No! She'd listen to dad!'_

'_If that was true, then you'd be allowed to see him'_

'_It is true! If she's sobre-'_

'Then she'll have nothing clouding her anger-'

The bell rang, sending a jolt running through him as the sound echoed down the hallways. Time for class.

The PE teacher hadn't introduced Gilbert to the class, and that was probably for the best. This way the girls could also get to know him. There weren't that many of them in the class, only Elizabeta Héderváry and Emma. Ivan has a younger sister in the year below named Natalia, his older sister, Irunya, had apparently started college last year. Matthew knew of two other girls who were a couple of years younger but he couldn't put names to their faces. He knew one of them was Vash's little sister and the other was a girl from Belgium.

As Mattie watched curiously as Gil stood at the front of the class, he couldn't help but think how it was cruel that he knew who almost everyone else is, but they don't know him.

"Class, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt." The class murmured, and a few sniggers came from the two students at the back. "Would you like to say hello?"

After a brief introduction and a declaration of how awesome he is, the teacher assigned him a seat.

"Normally I'd sit you with your brother but his desk is full..."

"He can sit with us, miss!" Yelled Antonio from the back. Francis laughed and tapped the empty desk next to him. Gilbert began to advance only for the teacher to protest.

"No, that is just an accident waiting to happen." The two boys pouted as Miss. Keylan pulled out the register. "... How about... Matthew Williams?" She scowled at her board and looked around the classroom, scanning the equally confused crowed. Even Alfred blinked a couple of times before turning in his seat and pointing to the Canadian.

No. No no no.

A small smirk crept up onto Gilbert's lips as he made his way down the aisle and plonked himself down on the empty chair.

"Hallo, Meine Mattie." He whispered as Miss Keylan started her lesson. Something about the way he said those words sent a shiver down Matthew's spine. His throat ached as a sob was trapped, making it difficult to swallow. It wasn't like he wanted to cry, but today he'd received more attention than he'd ever dreamed of getting... why wasn't he happy? Mattie wouldn't go as far as calling himself an attention seeker. He just hoped it would come his way without him having to get up and make an idiot of himself. And twice, in the same hour, that happened. And twice he ran away. Twice, this guy was the only one phased by it for more than two seconds... so why did he push him away?

Matthew opened his mouth to speak, but only a croak escaped his lips.

"Mattie?" Concern now evident in Gilbert's voice and Mattie felt a familiar, gut-wrenching sickness.

"Matthew?" A hand touched his shoulder. Making his muscles tense, even though the gesture was gentle and non-threatening. Fear? Was he afraid of the Prussian?

"Canada?"

"W-what?" Matthew looked at him through watery eyes, when he blinked, hot trails of salty tears traced his cheeks. Gilbert looked alarmed for all but a second before pointing to Matthew's maple leaf jumper.

"Oh..." He'd never had a nickname before, and his mind was too full of contradicting thoughts to process whether he liked it or not.

"Why are you crying, Birdie?" He was full of nicknames for the blonde. Matthew didn't answer and looked at his hands.

"Are you going to tell the awesome me?" Again, no reply.

"Are you afraid of me?" Matthew batted the hand off of his shoulder, edging away from him.

"Wh-" Gil began to ask the next question in his series of enquiries, only for the sharp-tongued assistant teacher to interrupt him.

"Why are you two talking whilst she is teaching?!" She hissed quietly to cause as little disruption as possible. Of course Gilbert had to cause as much disruption as possible.

"Well obviously our conversation is more interesting than her lesson." He retorted, turning in his seat. Maybe it was because she was young and wore similar clothing to the other students, that maybe he thought she was just another classmate. But his face lost all signs of cockiness when he saw her badge that hung around her neck.

Her face went as red as a tomato and she looked like she'd swallowed poison. Her eyes were like daggers, sharp, deadly and savage.

"Detention. Wednesday. After school." The young assistant teachers' voice carried obvious distaste and barely contained rage as she issued Gil his detention slip. Gil's jaw dropped as he saw it.

"But it's my first day!" He protested.

"Well you're not making a very good first impression, are you?" A smug grin spread across her lips. Mattie knew what it meant. Gil had been labelled as a troublemaker, meaning she'd look for ways to make his school life a living hell. How did Matthew know this? Because Alfred was in the same boat after he'd put Styrofoam bubbles in the ventilation system. Mattie groaned, knowing he'd be hearing more moaning about the banshee of an assistant teacher.

"Could be worse." Gilbert said, glumly.

"How, eh?"

"Well," that damn smirk appeared. "You could be stuck in detention with someone who isn't my awesome self." Matthew's heart stopped. A bitter taste danced on his tongue.

"What did you say?" Hoping he missed heard the albino.

In response, Gil tapped the slip on the desk next to Mattie's workbook as he fanned himself with his own.

The Canadian stared at the yellow slip and sure enough, his name was written on it in curly writing (though she'd spelt it 'Matty').

"How come _I've _got a detention?!" Mattie choked.

"But Matthew." Gilbert gave him what could only be described as puppy eyes. "You were talking too."

**Hope you liked it! Sorry if it sucks (I wrote most of it in the middle of the night) R&amp;R please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Here's chapter 4! I've got a new laptop but I started this fanfic on my old one... also I just got back from a residential with school so I couldn't access the internet! **

**That said I'm starting another fanfiction (Though I promise to update this one!) which will be a Spamano fic. So if you're interested you can check it out but I haven't got the chapters up yet!**

**Let's get on with it then!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!**

The lesson ended at 10:50 am, and the bell signalled the time for second break. Matthew quickly shoved his books into his bag and rose from his seat, hoping to get to the bathroom without any distractions. But today seemed to be the day for bad luck when Antonio and Francis blocked Gilbert's way, so Matthew was stuck behind him.

"In trouble already, Gil?" Francis tutted. Looking at him this closely it was obvious why he was popular. His silky blonde hair, his light stubble and blue eyes that reminded Matthew so much of the sky that it was if he was looking up on a clear day. The only thing that ruined his flawlessness was his flirtatious personality. Though his friends and followers found it charming and brave, Arthur Kirkland saw it as perverse and cocky. Or so he claimed.

This was old news though. At least three times a week Matthew overheard their lover's quarrel or people talking about rows that they had after school. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he probably knew more about the student body than people liked to think. He knew all the romantic things Francis said to Arthur in French (Matthew took it as an option for GCSE), he knew how Lovino secretly opted to do Spanish classes and he knew about Ludwig's' not-so-secret crush on Feliciano. There seemed to be as many gay relationships in this school as there was different nationalities.

"I see you've been making the boys cry, mi amigo." Antonio jerked a thumb in Mattie's direction. He blinked, realizing how his eyelashes still felt wet from his little teary moment, much to his embarrassment.

Gilbert flushed a little but smiled nonetheless. "Nah, Mattie's cool."

_Cool?_

Matthew held back his laughter. He may be many things (Shy, quiet and bland were three things that came to mind) but _cool_ was not one of them. It took a moment for him to realize that the three of them were watching him expectantly. After years of wanting to say so many things, it came as a surprise to him that he couldn't speak now. Some sort of incoherent noise arose from his throat, which would have been humiliating if Gilbert wasn't there to intervene.

An arm slipped over his shoulders, and Gilbert laughed in his odd little way as he directed him out of the classroom and into the not-too-crowded hallway where they stood at the window and resumed their conversation.

"This is the guy I'm spending that shitty detention with tomorrow." He informed the other two. They both shook their heads at Gil, as if it was typical of him to get into trouble before lunch time, even though they themselves had only met the guy... perhaps over the weekend. Envy shot through Matthew like an arrow. Sixteen years of being around these people and none of them really remembered him, but this guy had been here a few days and already he had more friends than he did.

"- And so I said to her-" Shrugging off Gil's' arm, Matthew headed for the bathroom, checking over his shoulder once or twice to make sure the Prussian wasn't following him. He wasn't.

A small, practically microscopic, part of himself felt a tiny bit disappointed. When he reached the cubical, closing the door and bolting it shut, Mattie pulled up his T-shirt and inspected his bruise. Nothing much had changed, but then again, it had been little over an hour since he last checked the ugly bruising. The swelling had gone down, to some relief.

No matter how he looked at it, with Gilbert's sudden attention, and his emotional... moments, today was going to be a long day.

So the final bell rang at 3:30 in the afternoon, as per usual and Matthew grabbed his bag and hurried out of his last lesson, Physics. Following the crowds of students out of the gates. There were two roots which Matthew could take; the short way down the main streets, where most of his fellow students lived. Or he could go the long way, which went round all the main accommodations and through the business estates on the edge of the city centre. Even though it was longer, with a view that wasn't as nice as the way Alfred took to get to his house, Matthew's old home, it was the best way to keep out of the way of people who might find out where Mattie lived.

The area was noticeably run down, neglected by the council, and many of the buildings were owned by private investors who rented out rooms and flats, like the one where he lived. It had gotten a name for itself; 'North Tracks'. Not a complicated story, really. It was, as the name says, on the North side of an old railway track that was seldom used these days. Rumours had spread about violence and drug use and alcohol abuse... most people would tell you it was a type of dystopia. But as Mattie walked down the busy streets, he couldn't help but think about how wrong that generalisation was. Even though the area was physically run down, the community was one of the strongest. Despite this... he missed his old home. He missed Alfred, no matter how annoying he could be. He missed his dad most of all.

Passing a few familiar faces, he made his way up the stairs of the flat and unlocked the door to his sickly smelling home.

It seemed his best attempts of cleaning the latest layer of vomit out of the carpet wasn't enough, he'd missed a bit on the sofa, and the daily heat made it worse. Matthew settled down his bag, opened a window and took out the bucket from under the sink once again and got to work scrubbing the fabric, though it the couch had been ruined when they bought it. The dishes from breakfast were still in the sink, so that was the next thing to do before taking his bag to his room and completing the homework he'd received from math before getting dinner ready for six; steak marinated in maple syrup. Many people found it disgusting, but it gave the meat a sweet and savoury flavour which Matthew adored.

As he was setting the table, he heard the high pitch-clicking of his mother's heels on the landing.

'_It's amazing she can walk properly in them even when she is sober.'_ Mattie thought to himself as he placed the food on the table with somewhat shaky hands.

The door to the apartment opened hard and rebounded on the wall with a loud thud as Miss William's staggered into the room in a post-drunken state, signalling the start of the evening routine: She'd come home, have something to eat, change into some party clothes and attend any party or gathering she's been invited to, or just go to the pub, come home, give Matthew his daily screaming match, throw up, got to bed. Mattie was at least thankful for two things: One; she ate something before she went out which dulled the effect the alcohol had on her. Two; her night-outs gave him a much needed break from his responsibilities. Looking after his mother, being the parent, was hard and exhausting and even though he hated her going out and getting drunk, it was much better, and less scary, than when she brings the party back to the small apartment with its thin walls and nicotine stained ceiling.

The two ate in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the deep, low hum of the fridge and the scraping of knives and forks against plates. Not even a word was spoken as she placed the cutlery on the now empty plate and left the room to get ready, which left the young boy to get a head start on the dishes.

It was at least an hour before his mother stepped out of the room wearing a pair of red high-heels that laced up to her thigh, tight blue shorts that were little more than a strip of denim and a crimson blouse that tightened at the waist and showed a little more cleavage than Mattie liked to bear thinking about.

"I'm going." She croaked as she pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her purse and placed one between her chapped lips that had been masked by red lipstick.

"Okay, mama..." Matthew scolded himself for sounding so childish and fragile. He was sixteen years old, he could look after himself! Not to mention his accent slipped through, a hint of French from his dad's side. Though his mother had probably killed a few hundred brain cells in her drinking years, her hearing was impeccable. The younger boy dared to glance up briefly, just long enough to catch her stone cold glare before she went back to inspecting the carton.

"I swear I had more..." Matthew's breath hitched and he tried hard to focus on the dishes, scrubbing harder and faster than necessary. Perhaps he had underestimated his mother's memory.

Then, without warning, Matthew felt a bony, nicotine stained hand grip his shoulder, spinning him around to face her.

"Did you take them?" She hissed through her loose teeth. "DID YOU?!"

"N- No... No, I didn't!" Her hand dropped to her side and Mattie breathed a small sigh of relief, turning back to the dishes. As she hobbled off. Soapy hands shook as he cleaned the last of the plates and placed it on the rack to dry. His mind went back to his comforting thoughts that clouded his mind on nights like this. In two years he could legally leave this place and never come back. He could get a job and earn some money to start a business... maybe a pancake hut somewhere in the mountains of Canada. And perhaps he'd get a real bear, not a stuffed one like he had now. The thought of having his own place far away from the smoke and beer riddled house that he currently inhabited was so sweet he found himself adding little details. His house would be hidden by the trees, up a mountain, but close enough to a small town where everyone knows each other, everyone knows him! Some of the house will be made of wood, the rest of stone, and it would have lots of big windows and a long drive so he could admire the beauty of his creation. There would be a lake nearby that would freeze in winter so he could go and play hockey or just mess around. He'd go to the bar every other Friday to meet new people but would not get completely pissed so he'd remember who they were! And the best part... they would remember who he was.

Mattie was so caught up in his fantasy life that he didn't hear the sound of his mother's six-inch heel fuck-me-boots clacking away on the cold kitchen floor. In fact... he wouldn't even have noticed she was there if she had not brought him down to earth with a sharp, fierce slap to the face, curling her fingers up almost immediately after they made contact so her nails dug deep into his pale skin, opening it up, letting the blood come to the surface. Matt gave let out a cry of pain and fear as he clutched his bleeding cheek with one hand and balanced himself on the counter with the other. Looking up to meet his mother's eyes, he caught a glimpse of the two cigarettes in her hand he'd stolen the night before. She must have gone through his bag.

Before he could respond, Miss Williams brought back her fist, releasing it from where it had been level with her waist and brought it up to connect with her sons stomach, sending him onto the floor, curled up, clutching his abdomen. Gasps escaped from his throat and he barely managed to stand.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please stop!" Matt cried, as he held back the bile threatening to make an appearance. It felt ten times worse than getting a hockey puck to the jaw, which was her next target as she crouched down and landed an uppercut punch left of Mattie's chin. He screamed but even that was painful. The minutes that followed were filled with a cry for every kick to the stomach, a choke for every fist to the face, a scream for every hit to the ribs. Matthew was thankful when she left, even though she spat on him as she did so. It was impossible to say which part of him hurt more. Unlike last night's single mark, he was too afraid to look at the multitude of bruises that littered his body like stars on a clear night sky. So instead he just lay on the floor, sobbing, gasping, and swallowing whenever his dinner felt like making a reappearance. The blood from his cheek and various other grazes left little splatters on the floor and on his clothes and though cleaning it up would help him forget it later, the blonde didn't look forward to moving his aching limbs.

Ten or fifteen minutes later and Matthew had managed to successfully pull himself up. His arms and shoulders tensed in pain, dizziness threatening to knock him back down on to the grimy kitchen tiles. Another five minutes and Mattie was stood up, using one shaking hand to balance himself on the counter. The plate that he'd been cleaning lay smashed near where he had fallen. Trying not to think of the broken pottery in fear of sparking off the pain, the teen made his way slowly to the bathroom, where hopefully a good soak in the steamy water might draw out some of the pain.

There hadn't been much blood to wash away and the hour soak in the bath did some good at relaxing his muscles. The tweezers had pulled out most of the shards from his skin and soon the plasters, bandages and cooling gel offered a little more relief. Not much but Mattie wanted to take what he could get. The broken plate was swept off of the floor and placed in the bin, the speckles of blood were mopped up and Matthew took his school bag and PE kit to his room.

It was whilst he lay in bed, thinking about the recent incident that the anger hit him. Why should he take care of her when all she ever does is hurt him? Why should he just stay with her and take this crap when he could go live with his dad and his brother? Why shouldn't he just smother her with a pillow whilst she slept?

Matthew's heart stopped. His mother may be an abusive, manipulative lush but he couldn't kill her... right? He could... if she was asleep. If his heart was in it he could overpower her. He shook his head. There's no way he would allow himself to think of such sinister things... Would he?

Shaking his wet blonde hair he rolled over and began his sleepless night.

Because I haven't updated in three months I decided to end the chapter early and post it... As I said earlier on I am working on other fanfics and I will hopefully find time for this one. Sorry for the three month gap! I had exams and other stuff going on so finding the time to update proved difficult! R&amp;R!


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